Page 29 of Her Notorious Rake
“You could be this season’s William Herschel.” Her voice echoed through his head. He truly yearned to be. Or at least, he used to. Before Father’s passing, he’d enjoyed a great many ambitions, he had cared. He had once striven to be the best fencer, the best scholar at Oxford. The best boxer. And now here he was, wasting away his health, his leisure, his mind.
Wasting himself on women he’d never remember. Closing his eyes, he pictured Gemma in his mind, her large hazel eyes, lips parted as she gazed over at him at the opera, his pulse leaping beneath her gaze. Once, years ago, as a mere boy, he had been entranced in a similar manner. It had been brief, perfunctory. A boyish fancy. But it had passed.
Now, leaning over his bed, he wondered if this would pass. Deep down, something told him it wouldn't, at least not without effort.
Chapter 14
“Here it is!” Prudence tugged on Gemma’s arm, and together they slipped inside the bookshop, a spacious spread of shelves crammed full of books. Gemma’s heart began to race. Perhaps, some of father’s books had ended up here. Perhaps, she would find his large blue book about astronomy, the one Gemma had once poured over, curled up in the big armchair in her father’s library…
Her fingers tightened around a silken drawstring bag, containing the allowance Aunt Philippa had generously bequeathed her.
She began to peruse the shelves one by one, until Prudence exclaimed, “What are you searching for so assiduously, Gemma?”
Gemma chewed on her lower lip, frowning as she finished searching through one side of the shop. “A book on the stars,” she murmured. “It once belonged to my father.”
“Your father? Then why would it be here?” Prudence asked.
Gemma caught her breath, pausing. She sighed, and drew Prudence into a quiet corner, out of sight and hopefully the earshot of the shopkeeper.
“When I was eighteen, my father fell into trouble—he was careless and he—” she swallowed, a lump returning to her throat. Her mind shrank away from the memory that always surfaced when she spoke of Father. She wouldnotrecall that right now. “He was careless. When he passed,” and here she paused again.
She attempted to shake herself free. “When he passed, most of what we owned was seized by creditors, sold off.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “Most of his books sold as well,of course. I could not keep that particular book, the one I’m searching for today.”
“Oh, Gemma,” Prudence breathed. “I am so sorry. Forgive me for even broaching the subject”
“Never mind,” Gemma turned away and began to scan the shelves again. No avail. She did not spy the desired tome, thick and swathed in blue, with intricate golden lettering across it. Her throat and nose prickled and she ran a gloved finger over the nearest row of books, face hot. She had not spoken to anyone outside her Mama and Aunt Philippa about Father, about those dark days surrounding his death. How everything had been so desolate, so hopeless, watching Mama crumple beneath the weight of grief and shame.
Gemma steeled herself, and stepped behind the case to ask the shopkeeper, “Do you happen to have David Gregory’s book on astronomy?”
“I’m afraid not, Miss,” the shopkeeper said with a tight smile. He’d been glaring at them since they’d spent the past half-hour perusing the shelves to no avail. “That book is rarely printed these days. It’s scarce seen, so I’ve heard.”
Gemma’s heart sank. She should have hidden it away in her things, so the creditors would not take it. But it had all happened so fast. Too fast. Mother had been weeping inconsolably, and she had tried to comfort her as best she could.
“We shall search through every bookshop in the city,” Prudence told her in a low voice, clasping her hand tightly. “Do not despair, Gemma.”
Gemma nodded, sniffling.
“There’s another not two streets from here,” Prudence covered her mouth when the bookshop owner scowled, clearly overhearing their plan.
Prudence and Gemma exchanged sheepish smiles and dissolved into laughter they tried their best to stifle behind theirgloved hands and fans. “I think he’s wearied of us,” Gemma whispered.
“Indeed,” Prudence giggled. “Come, let us depart. We can visit every bookshop on this side of London if we make haste.”
***
Dalton and Theodore found a private corner of the coffee room in a curtained alcove, where they retired with steaming cups of the foaming coffee and tea. After a few sips, the dull ache in Dalton’s temples eased, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring this relief.
“I’ve been hearing whispers about you,” Theodore said from across the table, taking a sip of his tea. For of course, the fellow was as strict with himself about coffee as he was about abstaining from drink.
“Pray, enlighten me,” Dalton sighed, drumming his fingers on the table.
“Well, a bird informed me that you are abandoning your rakish ways.”
Dalton took another sip of his coffee, mouth twitching.
“You certainly seem more lively at the courts.”
“It is merely due to my reluctance to be one of those old boors with gout, who bray at everyone around them.”
